


Heart Full of Stars (Sharp and Glorious)

by NeonTinkerbell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 15:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonTinkerbell/pseuds/NeonTinkerbell
Summary: Hermione knows working herself into the ground isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but right now it’s the only one she’s got. When deliberate intervention forces her to work with one of her old schoolmates, will things fall into place, or will they just fall apart?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/gifts).



The towers in the distance swayed rhythmically in time with her breathing and as she watched them the grass tickled gently against her cheek. She couldn’t place why they looked so familiar.

“Hermione?”

“Mmmh?” was all she could manage in reply. 

Crookshanks bumped his fluffy head against Hermione’s shoulder before asking her, “What are you doing?”

What was she doing? There had been something important before she had gotten distracted by the fluidic structural anomalies. It tugged at the back of her mind just beyond her grasp.

The big ginger moggy reached out and battered her at her arm with his paw. He was being very annoying. 

“Hermione?”

The haze of slumber fractured with the sudden awareness that someone was in her space. She loosed a sucking gasp as reflexes overpowered conscious thought. Wand snapping from its holster. Chair toppling as she sprang from it. She spun, diving away from incoming jinxes and whirled about to face her– 

“WOW, wow, Hermione it’s just me! Easy, okay?”

–not-assailant. Just her boss, looking deeply concerned and with his hands up in surrender. 

She dropped her wand arm. God, how could she be so stupid? She wasn’t at war anymore, she was safe inside her office. Her office in the Ministry of Magic. One of the most secure buildings in magical Britain, dammit!

“Brian, I’m so sorry...” Was all she could bring herself to say. She hadn’t had a reaction like that in years. 

He edged around the desk towards her, keeping his hands in view until he was close enough to reach out and peel the sheet of parchment off that was stuck to the side of her face. With a sigh, she accepted it back. Only a few paragraphs remained unsmeared across the page. 

Hermione let the parchment drop back onto her desk amid the other assorted notes, books and artefacts that she was sure at some point had a semblance of order to them. A quick wave of her wand scourgifyed the mess of ink that had bled onto her face and hair, another vanished the creases and tea stains off her robes. Feeling only marginally more presentable, she turned to find Brian had closed her door and was activating the privacy wards. 

Once finished he indicated her to sit. A flick of her wand returned her chair to its rightful place behind her desk. With as much composure and dignity as she could muster, she sat, waiting for the reprimand.

To his credit, Brian didn’t appear to be rattled. He ran his hand across his neatly trimmed beard before meeting her eyes with own watery blue ones.

“We need to talk about your workload.”

Hermione blinked. “I’m still on track with the Werewolf Educational Rights bill,” she offered quickly. “And the proposal for the expansion of the Irish Dragon Reserve will be ready to submit to the board by Tues– err–” She glanced about at the stacks of parchment– “Thursday, definitely Thursday.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the problem.”

“I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “Just a momentary lapse of concentration.”

“Hermione, do you even know what time it is?” He asked. She started to reply and realised actually, she didn’t. “It’s seven a.m. You’ve been here the entire night.”

“I must have lost track of the time then,” she huffed. It hadn’t been that late when she had last checked, only quarter past one.

“Do you know where I used to work before I transferred to the Magical Creatures department?” he asked. She shook her head. “The Auror Corps.” 

Brian placed his elbows on her desk and laced his fingers together. His eyes narrowed and his mouth stretched in tight-lipped grimness. “I know what burnout looks like, and right now you’re spiralling straight into it.”

His hand lifted in anticipation of her protest. “What’s the least important thing you’re working on?” he asked.

“They’re all important!”

“Alright, what has the lowest priority?”

Resigned, she mentally flicked through her work. “The Arithmancy calculations for the Porlock breeding program.”

“Great, you’re going to give them to the outwork team.”

“What! No, absolutely not.” Her voice rose an octave in indignation and she bit back a further response before she truly lost her temper.

“Yes, you are,” he replied patiently. “Because if you don’t, I’ll have to write you an official warning for sleeping on the job.”

“You wouldn’t.” She glared at him

“Just because you’re the Golden girl doesn’t mean you're exempt from the rules. I’ve let things slide before but now you’re not looking after yourself and it’s dangerous to you and others around you.” He gestured towards her door. “What if it had been someone else who had woken you up this morning? If you’d gotten a spell off before you remembered where you were?”

Her face burned with the truth of his words. She could have easily hurt someone. Still, she was an adult and perfectly capable of fixing this on her own!

Brian stood and waved his wand, dispelling the privacy wards. “Come along, and bring the documents on the breeding program.”

Hermione glowered at his back as he walked out her door. Blowing her frustration out with a sigh, she pressed her palms into her eyes. Where had she put the notes for the program? Maybe they were under the– nope. 

After a hasty search, she found them. She stuffed them into her beaded bag and followed her boss out of her office.


	2. Chapter 2

The outworks department was part of the Ministry's plan to fast track its recovery after the war. Create new jobs to handle the overflow of work. It looked great on parchment, but the reality was that with a lax hiring process and no systems or standards in place to handle the handover of work it created more problems than it solved. Jobs came back incomplete or worse, with outright wrong answers.

Hermione had no intention of compromising her work with substandard or incorrect information.

The clerk at the department front desk greeted them with a smile. He and Brian quickly exchanged words while she waited patiently to the side. Finally the clerk turned to her, “Ms Granger, I have just the person to complete your arthricmancy equations,” He stood and stepped out from behind his desk, “If you would please follow me.”

They made their way through a winding maze of identical cubicles. The only sound to be heard was the swooshing of the interdepartmental paper plan memos and the scratch of quills against parchment. Whoever was in charge must have decided to put their foot down to try and improve the quality of work being produced.

It didn’t take long to reach their destination and Hermione’s mouth fell open as she found herself looking at an unpleasantly familiar face.”

“No, absolutely not,” She snapped. The man cowered under her glare.

“I can assure you–”

“Someone else, anyone else actually, I’m sure that won't be a problem.”

The clerk shuffled nervously,” There isn’t anyone else available actually…”

Millicent Bulstrode did not look particularly enthusiastic about seeing her either but had the sense of mind not to get involved in the heated exchange taking place. Her demeanour didn’t crack when Hermione turned her withering glare on her either.

“Well, you heard the man, Hermione,” Brian said calmly. The look he gave her, though, clearly communicated that she was wearing thin the last threads of his patience.

“Fine,” she huffed, slapping the parchment down on Millicent's desk, “Don’t feel too bad if it’s beyond the scope of your capabilities.”

With that, she turned and stormed haughtily from the office.

***

The Arthrimancy equations were waiting for her on her desk when she returned the next morning. Hermione seized upon them and began furiously scribbling her own notes for the equations answers. Proving to Brian that outsourcing her work was a worthless endeavor was going to be this morning’s priority.

However, as she made her way through the answers Bulstrode had provided she was able to find no faults in the work. The neat handwriting clearly showed the working of how the woman had solved each of the calculations required.

The indigent ire in her chest extinguished under the tide of shame that washed over her. Bulstrode’s work wasn’t just good, it was on par with own. Not only had she underestimated her, she had been unconscionably horrible to her as well.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and sighed, burying her face in her hands. She was supposed to be better than this. The war was over; they were supposed to be putting the past behind them.

She stood. No choice now but to go and face the consequences of her actions.

Thankfully, a different clerk was at the department’s desk this morning. Hermione nodded at the women as she walked past. She threaded her way through the cubicle to Bulstrode’s desk. The woman was engrossed in her work and didn’t notice her presence until Hermione cleared her throat. She turned, meeting Hermione with the same steady composure as she had yesterday.

“Ms Granger,” she said, “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Hermione wasn’t sure how to follow up that statement.

“Was there a problem with my work?” Millicent asked warily.

“No, no, the work was excellent,” said Hermione, fidgeting with her bag. Hermione really hated being wrong, but she really just needed to bite the bezoar, “Look, Bul– Millicent, I need to apologize for my behaviour yesterday. What I said was awful and unacceptable.”

That finally provoked a response and surprise overtook the woman's face. This didn’t make any sense. Hermione had still expected a cutting Slytherin response, to have her apology thrown back in her face. Hermione’s natural curiosity was waging a war inside her. She knew very little of what had happened to the Slytherins she had known after the war trials. Now, Millicent was here, working a job at the Ministry of Magic and apparently doing a very good job of it, too.

  
“Let me buy you a coffee,” she blurted out, “as an apology.” Oh Merlin, had she really just said that?

Millicent’s mouth fell open. Hermione expected a string of expletives to come out of it but she simply nodded instead.

“Great, I have to go but I’ll send you a memo with the details.” Hermione was so eager to escape before anything could go wrong that she was five steps away before she remembered the other reason she had come down. She kicked herself mentally and rummaged in her beaded bag. Fortunately, the new set of equations were at the top and she held them out to Millicent.

“Here, I have some more work for you, I mean if you have time.”

Millicent accepted the parchment with a nod,” Yeah, it shouldn’t a problem.”

“Okay great, thanks,” Hermione smiled and turned, this time to actually leave. Her morning had not gone at all how she had expected. Hopefully, the rest of the day would bring some normality back to her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Bells chimed beside her head as Hermione pushed through the door to The Witch’s Brew. Crossing the threshold and strong silencing charm, the hustle and bustle of mid-day Diagon Alley immediately hushed. The Weird Sisters’ new single warbled from the wireless behind the counter and mingled with the chatter of the occupied tables. It didn’t take her long to spot Millicent; the witch had chosen a lonely looking table near the back of the cafe.

She could feel eyes following her. Seems despite their disappearance from the public eye, people still hadn’t forgotten how to spot a member of the ‘Golden Trio’. She sunk into the seat opposite Millicent, who simply sipped at her drink, coffee by the smell wafting across the table.

A waitress appeared at her side, “English breakfast tea please, two sugars and a little milk.” The woman nodded and left.

Hermione studied the women across the table from her. It was the first time she had really seen Millicent since Hogwarts. Not much had changed. Broad shoulders, stocky frame, most of her teenage puppy fat had hardened into muscle. Her hair definitely had though; now barely touching her shoulders, the short bob cut accentuated her boyish features. It was partially shaved on one side and appeared even darker now than the raven black she remembered.

The smell of the fresh blend broke her from her musing only a moment before the pot was placed in front of her. Hermione thanked the waitress with a small smile.

With a flick of her wrist, she released her wand from its holster. She would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching, but across the table, Millicent jerked almost imperceptibly.

“Muffliato.”

The chatter around them dipped in volume and silence fell back across the table, palpable between them as they watched each other warily.

“So, how did you end up working for the Athramiancy team?”

Millicent shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it, it just kinda happened.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, her brows raised. Positions at the ministry were still coveted even now.

“Professor Vector found me. She said she thought I was wasting my potential.”

“She found you?

“Yeah. I just need to get away from things after the war ended so I took a job up north working as a waitress. Was nice, cos’ no one knew me.” Millicent paused, taking a sip of her coffee. “Then out the blue, she just walked into the Muggle cafe, still dressed in those bright crimson robes and hat. Everyone was staring at her and she just came marching up to the counter.” Millicent ran a hand through her cropped hair. “She said how wonderful it was to see me and that there was a position at the Ministry opening up that would be perfect for me and that she would recommend me for the position. Three days later I got an owl with a job offer. Couldn’t exactly turn it down, could I?”

Hermione looked surprised. “I had no idea you were that good at Arithmancy at school?”

“Not everyone was as willing to out themselves as being a total swat as you, Granger,” Millicent replied. “Besides, a lot of it was basic maths we learned at primary school.”

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it. Who was this woman sitting in front of her? The Bulstrodes were purebloods and Death Eaters, she had been at their trial for Christ’s sake. Gertrude and Julian Bulstrode, they had confessed to numerous crimes against wizards and muggles. They had been present the night Amelia Bones was murdered. They had tortured and killed at least sixteen muggle families. The pair had even massacred Julian’s brothers family for – she inhaled sharply – ‘cavorting with muggle filth’, as he had put it.

Millicent’s face had grown tight and she raised an eyebrow at Hermione. “Finally putting the pieces together then? Wasn’t sure if you’d live up to your reputation.”

Hermione stared. Thoughts racing. “I… you… God, Millicent, I’m so sorry–”

Before she could finish the women leapt out of her seat as if burned. “Blow it out your arse, Granger, I don’t want your bloody pity!” she spat. She snatched her coat off the back of her seat and strode past her.

Hermione panicked, twisting in her seat. She had to say something, anything! “My parents are dead!”

Her hands flew to her mouth. She hadn’t told anyone except Ron and Harry what had happened after she went to find them. Millicent froze mid-step at the outburst.

“I needed a way to protect them from being killed or captured by Voldemort, so before the start of the seventh year I altered their memories to forget they had a daughter and forced them to move to Australia–” The words were spilling out of her as quickly as the tears from her eyes, why couldn’t she stop?– “after the war, I went to find them but...” A hiccup tore through her, staunching the flood, “but… there had been an accident.”

Millicent turned towards her. She walked back to the table and sat in her vacated seat, meeting Hermione's eyes with an unreadable expression.

“A drunk driver collided with their car,” said Hermione. The emotion bled out of her voice, washed away with the tears and leaving her empty. All she could manage was a hoarse whisper, “I killed them.”

Millicent slowly reached across the table to take her hands. Hermione was vaguely aware of how small they looked in the other woman's. Her own dark skin encompassed by pale. Millicent gently circled her thumb across the back of Hermione’s hand.

“No,” she replied, “you didn’t.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Two blocks down from the south entrance of the Ministry was a muggle park. It wasn’t particularly big or floral, but somehow it managed to remind her of the one down the road from the house she grew up in despite being surrounded by high-rises.

“Tuna and rye?”

Hermione's eyes snapped to the proffered sandwich in front of her. It was indeed tuna on rye with what looked like small slices of cucumber and romaine. She took it gingerly from Millicent’s hand, careful not to allow any of the neatly packed ingredients escape onto her dress.

“Thanks, it looks delicious.”

That earned her a smile from the dark haired women. Hermione allowed herself to sit back on the bench they had claimed and took a small nibble of the sandwich. It was good, really good. Millicent must have mixed the tuna with… aioli, maybe? She took another bite.

How long had it been since she’d eaten something that hadn’t come from a takeaway container? She really should try to cook more often. If she left work at six she could have time to make something, but then when would she go shopping? And that time of the evening was perfect for catching up on reports because no one was around to interrupt with the latest crisis.

Looking up Hermione realized Millicent had been watching her, a small grin lighting her dark eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just looked like you were doing some deep thinking,” Millicent replied. “I thought we came out here to get away from work?”

“I wasn’t thinking about work!” Hermione lied. Well, it was sort of the truth actually.

“So what’s that look for then?”

Hermione chewed her lip. “Nothing, this is really good.”

Millicent raised her eyebrows at her but didn’t verbalize a response. She shifted her gaze to the far end of the park and Hermione followed it. Two children were playing with a larger golden retriever. The oddness of its normality twisted unpleasantly in the base of her chest.  
  
“What did you want to do when you left Hogwarts? Before… um,” she couldn’t quite find the words. That had sounded much better in her head.

“Before the war?”

“Yes.”

Silence hung between them and Hermione mentally kicked herself. That was a stupid thing to ask, really, she should have known better considering how miserable she felt anytime someone tried to dredge up the memories she had so carefully locked–

“I wanted to create a vaccine for Dragon Pox.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Millicent shot her a sideways glance. “Mum thought it was important for me to get vaccinated even though Dad said the magic in my body would protect me from most illnesses.”

She took a bite from her own sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

“From the books I’ve read, it seems like magical illness are caused by contagions attacking the magic in our bodies rather than the physical cells. The current cure relies on reducing the transmorphic effects it has on the body as well as suppressing the other symptoms until the host’s magic is able to deal with it.”

Hermione realised she was sitting up straighter. A smile had crept onto Millicent’s face and there was more confidence in her voice than Hermione had ever heard from her. It vanished though, as quickly as it had appeared as Millicent gave a dismissive wave.

“Don’t think I would have been able to anyway. The biggest problem would be getting funding and permission to research anything remotely muggle related. You know how the pureblood lot are.”  
  
“It would be worth it though,” Hermione replied, surprised by the conviction she found in her own voice. Millicent was the last person she expected to be having this kind of conversation with. “It’s about time the magical world started to acknowledge that relying purely on magic is stagnating our advancement.”

Millicent laughed. “Don’t let anyone at the Ministry hear you say that--I doubt even being the Golden Girl could save you from the scandal they would stir up.”

“Maybe not, we’ll just have to work together on convincing the right people it’ll be worth the investment then.”

The smile was back. Hermione met Millicent's eyes. So much darker than her own, yet still able to carry so much more warmth than she ever expected. She could see the flecks of light brown and green that danced around the edge of the irises…

Staring, she was staring! Damn it, interpersonal connections had really never been her forte and now she was messing up the first new friendship she had made since she had started working. Ugh, why was she such a freak?

She dove into her beaded bag, rummaging quickly until she found the object of her search. Tearing open the bag she turned and offered up her contribution to their lunch.

“Chelsea bun?”

“Thanks.”

Millicent reached into the bag and gently pulled one of the buns loose. Hermione followed suit. The hum and bustle of the city floated back over them as they ate quietly.

“We should go dancing this Saturday.”

Hermione almost choked. She managed to swallow her mouthful without embarrassing herself. “I really need to finish up some research for the proposal I’m working on,” she replied carefully.

“Yeah, but you can do that during the day, right?” Millicent grinned

“I really shouldn’t.”

“You work too hard, Hermione. Give yourself permission to have some fun for once!”

Fun, doubtful. Humimillitiaing, most likely. The only time she had danced was at the Yule Ball and that had turned out spectacularly abysmal. Although it would be nice to go somewhere other than home or work. It would be like a girls’ night.

“Okay, alright.” Hermione sighed, “I’ll come.”


	5. Chapter 5

The music pounded loud and heavy around her as she threaded her way towards the bar. How was she going to find Millicent in this crush of people? Apparently, she didn’t have to as the taller woman suddenly appeared next to her. The noise of the club subsided into the background and she felt the familiar wash of magic in the air.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” Millicent replied. Hermione hadn’t expected Millicent to wear a dress, but she found herself still surprised at the woman's confident presence in a white shirt and jeans.

“Did you put a tracking charm on me?” Hermione asked, cocking her head with a smile.

“No, but you’re easy enough to spot in a crowd.” Millicent leaned in toward her ear to whisper, “Your hair gives you away.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ugh, I should have known, I can never do anything to tame it.”

“I like it, it suits you.” The sceptical look Millicent got in response did nothing to dampen her smile. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

The noise of the club crashed back into the fore as the privacy spell burst. She couldn’t quite make out what Millicent was saying to the bartender but it looked like they knew each other as she got a friendly slap on the shoulder in response to her order. Two tall glasses appeared on the counter and were quickly filled with ice and an assortment of colourful liquids.

She was handed the one that had become a traffic light of blue, purple and pink. Millicent stepped past her and Hermione followed quickly as not to become lost in the crush of bodies. They slid into an unoccupied booth and the bass pounding beat retreated again.

Taking a sip of her drink through a brightly coloured straw, she found her taste buds assaulted by strawberry, watermelon and barely concealed alcohol. Across the table, Millicent was doing the same.

“So, do you come dancing in muggle clubs often?” She asked, trying to keep her tone neutral. She’d gotten to know the woman better over their regular lunch and coffee chats, but she still had a hard time picturing Millicent with a social circle that didn’t include Parkinson’s or Draco’s sneering disdain over anything muggle.

Millicent nodded. “I’ve been here with Brett Thompson and Sheryl Davies a few times.”

She recognised the names but couldn’t put a face to them. They both also worked at the Ministry, she knew, then it came back to her. “They were three years above us, right? Hufflepuffs?”

“Yeah, Muggle-borns, I didn’t really know them before I–” She waved her hand and grimaced. “Doesn’t matter, finish your drink and let's go dance!”

Before she could protest, Millicent had upended her own glass and was quickly draining its contents. Well, sod it, bottoms up then. The artificial flavouring overpowered the alcohol enough for her not to embarrass herself. Hermione plonked the empty glass back on the table and reach out to take the offered hand waiting for her.

She had worried that the press of bodies surrounding her would make her anxious, but Millicent was a reassuring presence in front of her and as she watched the woman begin to sway and move in time with the beat she tried to relax and remember anything she had read that might have been relevant on how to dance at a club.

“Just move with the music, Granger, like this.”

Her eyes snapped up as Millicent straightened and winked at her. She could feel her face flushing, but she copied the simple movements the taller woman was making with her hands and feet. She glanced around; no one was watching her. All were too engrossed with their own haze of alcohol and rhythm.

The song faded into the next track and the beat speed up. She let her body flow with it, trying not to think. Just copying the movement around her. Millicent smiled down at her as they danced in time. This was very different from the Yule Ball, but definitely better, she decided.

Five song changes later and her legs were getting sore. The cushioning charms on her heels were still working fine but this was more exercise than she had done in a while, she realized. Perks of a desk job.

Millicent must have noticed because she leaned forward next to her. “Let's get another drink, yeah?”

She nodded and followed the path Millicent pushed through in front of her. Their booth had been claimed by a mob of young men and women who appeared to be very drunk and enjoying being so immensely. A smaller one slightly further from the bar was empty though and Millicent gestured towards it. Then she pointed at herself and then the bar. Hermione nodded in agreement.

Ten minutes later, Millicent returned with two new concoctions in hand. Hermione had slipped her shoes off under the table and the cool wood was a balm on her confined soles. The drink that Millicent slid in front of her this time was red and yellow.

“I’ve got just what you need, Hermione: sex on the beach,” Millicent said, with a toothy grin.

Hermione eyed it suspiciously.

“Try it, I promise it’s good.”

It wasn’t bad. Probably not something she would order on purpose, but since she hadn’t paid for it she couldn’t really complain.

“What are you drinking?” She asked, pointing at the plain looking glass in Millicent’s hand.

“Just a bourbon.”

Their conversation remained casual and lighthearted: Classmates turned workmates, the latest press release from the Minister of Magic, the Harpies’ narrow victory over Puddlemere.

“I didn’t take you for much of a quidditch fan?” Millicent tipped her glass at her and leaned back in her seat.

“I’m not really, I just follow the Harpies because Ginny is their star chaser.” Seeing only a puzzled expression, she continued, “Ginny Weasley, she was in Gryffindor with me, a year younger than us?”

“Ah, Potter’s girlfriend. Are they still...” Millicent gestured vaguely.

“No, things didn’t really work out.” Hermione took another sip of her drink, which to her surprise she found was almost empty. “She and Luna Lovegood got married last year, the wedding was gorgeous.” It really had been. Except she had decided not to bring a plus one. And despite being Ginny’s maid of honour, Molly had seated her next to Ron. But aside from that it was very nice, she couldn’t remember the last time either of her friends had looked so radiant.

Millicent nodded slowly and appeared to contemplate this new information. Then she smiled and pointed at her now empty glass. “Ready for another dance?”

She was surprised to find that, yes, dancing did sound like a good idea. Perhaps it was the warmth of alcohol spreading through her belly and up to her chest. Her feet slipped back into her heels without protest and she stood, this time offering her hand to Millicent. The dark-haired woman took it gently and led her back out onto the dancefloor.

Lights flashed all around her, illuminating glimpses of bodies and limbs. She could feel the music now, flowing through and lifting her. She grinned. Ginny would be disappointed she missed seeing this. A body bumped into her hard enough that it sent her stumbling forward and before she could regain her balance, a large arm wrapped around her waist. Millicent straightened, bringing Hermione with her and her arm reflexively slipped around the taller woman’s back, clutching her shirt lightly. Blinking, Hermione realised she should let go. Millicent’s warmth radiated into her, however, and it had been a long time since she had been this close to another person. Hermione looked up, locking eyes. They looked like they sparkled when the lights flashed across the dancefloor. This close she could see that Millicent's nose crinkled slightly when she smiled; how had she not noticed that before? Lips, rosy and full and definitely getting closer.

The kiss was soft and Hermione involuntarily groaned into it. Their lips moved slowly and Millicent tugged at her bottom lip with her own. Ooh shit, she was a good kisser. Shit... SHIT... kissing, she was kissing Millicent-Bloody-Bulstrode! She should definitely not be fucking kissing Millicent Bulstrode!

Hermione tore herself away with a gasp. The confusion on Millicent’s face quickly morphed into concern.

“Hermione?”

Everything was pressing in on her now. The music too loud and the room too hot. She pushed away and fought through the crush, back in the direction she remembered the entrance being. The crowd thinned and she could taste the cool night air in front of her. Her heels clacked against the pavement. The alleyway on her left, empty save for rubbish bags and debris.

“Hermione!”

Wand out, she twisted and the gut-wrenching crack of disapparition drowned out the rest of the world around her.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione awoke to the distinctive clacking of beak against double glazing. It did absolutely nothing to soothe the dull ache that had settled behind the bridge of her nose. She toyed with the idea of simply staying in bed and ignoring it. Pragmatism won out though, and she flipped back the covers with a harrumph. Drawing the bedroom curtains revealed a stout little barn owl with _The Daily Prophet_ attached to its leg. She took it with a sigh, slipped a few sickles into its pouch and got a hoot of thanks before it flapped back into the cool morning air.

She didn’t bother to untie it before tossing it onto a stack of mail that was accumulating on her kitchen counter. Tea first, then panadol, if she had any left. She filled the kettle and set it to boil before rummaging about looking for discarded hair ties. They didn’t take long to find and restrain her bushy curls back into a messy bun and out of her face.

No sooner had she sat down in her worn couch, tea in hand, before another loud clacking interrupted her.

The large tawny owl did not look in the least bit apologetic. It hooted as she opened her kitchen window and extended its leg. Attached was an envelope addressed to her in very familiar handwriting.

Shit.

She turned it over in her hands. Opening it would mean having to accept that last night wasn’t just a fever dream her overstressed brain had cooked up. That she really had kissed Millicent, or rather, Millicent had kissed her and…

Tea, she decided was the best course of action before attempting to make any difficult decisions this morning.

It took two cups, the last black, strong and slightly bitter before she felt mentally ready to examine the contents of the envelope in front of her. Out of habit, she cast a few diagnostic spells over it but as she expected it was just a letter. No charms, curses or jinxes. With a steadying breath, she opened it.

_Hermione,_

_I am truly sorry for my behaviour last night._  
_Your friendship means a lot to me and if you give me the chance to apologize in person I promise I’ll make it up to you._  
_Will you meet me at The Witch’s Brew this morning?_

_Millicent_

Hermione wasn’t sure what she had been anticipating. She hadn’t actually expected to hear from Millicent at all really. It would have been easy enough to avoid each other at work. She could send all the work through the internal communication system. Still, she really had enjoyed spending time with Millicent. Burying herself back into work was always an excellent way to stave of the loneliness of solitude, but just because she was used to it didn't make it easy.

It didn’t take long for her to pen her response. Millicent’s owl was still waiting for her at the window. Its black eyes stared at her keenly as it accepted her reply, then with a hoot, it was gone.

***

Millicent was sitting in their usual spot down the back of the cafe. She stood up as Hermione approached and she could see the other woman fidgeting with her robes.

She stopped in front of her. Millicent gave her an awkward smile, “Hey, um, I’m glad you came.”

Hermione nodded and pulled out her chair. A pot of tea was already waiting for her so she poured herself a cup.

“Let me put up privacy ward and then we can talk.”

The muffliato charm dimmed the chatter of conversation around them. Millicent’s hands were wrapped around her coffee cup and she was studying its contents. Hermione watched her take a deep breath and then she looked up, meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry about last night, it was really rude of me to kiss you without asking your consent first. Not that it’s any excuse, but I was a little overwhelmed by suddenly having a beautiful woman in my arms and I just…” She gave a sheepish half-shrug.

“Spurious flattery isn’t helping your case.“ Hermione snapped. She folded her arms. Perhaps agreeing to meet had been a mistake.

Millicent looked puzzled. “I’m not, I’m being serious. You really are stunningly beautiful, Hermione.”

“Well your friends didn’t seem to think so,” Hermione shot back. “You all thought I was a bucktooth, nappy haired, know-it-all. If I recall correctly.” Old wounds still stung, despite everything that had happened since.

“They weren't my friends, not really. I just did whatever I could to fit in.” Millicent replied, dropping her head. “But, those things aren't true. You have an amazing smile that lights up your whole face and–” She glanced back up, into Hermione’s frosty stare before continuing, “I admire you because you’re brave, you’re clever and you stand up for yourself. You’re incredibly dedicated and passionate about what you believe in. But that all kind of doesn’t matter. Can we just forget last night?”

That would be easy. But it wasn’t why she had agreed to meet Millicent. There were things you were supposed to talk about face to face. Despite Millicent’s words, she wasn’t feeling very brave at all. She could just say yes, push down the niggling thoughts of imagined regret that stopped the word from slipping off her tongue.

“No, we can’t.”

Millicent’s eyes widened and she hunched back in her seat. The movement dragged her cup with her and it scraped across the table until Hermione reached out and placed her hand on Millicent’s, halting the motion. She looked up, meeting her gaze.

“I don’t know if I like women, but I like you, Millicent,” she said softly.

The moment hung between, neither wanting to break the spell her words had cast. Finally, Millicent straightened in her seat.

“Okay.” She said, matching Hermione’s tone. “So where do you want to go from here?”

“Well, I thought we could go on a date, a proper one.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “To a restaurant, maybe? I know it’s not the most original idea, but...”

Millicent nodded quickly, a hopeful smile starting to spread. “No, that would be really nice, I’d like that.”

“Good.”

And she felt good. It had been a long time since she had been on an actual romantic date. She found she was looking forward to it already.


	7. Chapter 7

The knock at her door came just as Hermione was putting on the finishing touches to the simple makeup she had chosen. A flick of her wand restored the bathroom to its proper state of cleanliness and with one last glance in the mirror, she moved towards the door.

Millicent greeted her with an easy going smile. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks, so do you,” She replied. Millicent was dressed in a style she had seen Ginny wear on occasion. The pale blue check shirt she wore under a navy cardigan accentuated her short hairstyle nicely and her cream moleskins were pressed perfectly. All and all she looked very handsome.

Millicent slipped her hand out from behind her back, revealing a small bouquet of orange roses and gerberas, dark orange alstroemeria and red and gold daisies. She offered them to Hermione with a small nod, “I thought you might enjoy these.”

“Oh, thank you!” Hermione replied with a small gasp. She hadn’t thought to get Millicent anything and it caught her off guard. She accepted them and summoned an empty vase. It had been some time since she had last had flowers brightening her flat. She smiled appreciatively at Millicent, “These are wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

She grabbed her coat and locked up behind her. The closest apparition spot was half a block away and the autumn wind tussled with her curls as they walked.

“Where are we going?” She asked, turning her head to look at her companion.

“A place I know over in Dartmouth,” Millicent replied. She must not have bothered with a warming charm either as her cheeks were starting to pinken in the cold. The alleyway offered a reprieve from the wind as they turned into it and Millicent offered her arm. Hermione linked hers through it and with a twist and a crack they disapparated.

Side along was always unpleasant, but the disorientation caused by the feeling of being ejected from a tube the size of a garden hose was eased by Millicent's steadying arm.

“You alright there?” the woman asked with a wry grin.

“Perfectly,” She replied, unable to help but roll her eyes in response. “Let’s not dally then shall we?”

Millicent’s smile widened, but she wisely said nothing and gently tugged her arm, leading Hermione forward. Closer to the coast the wind had picked up even worse. Hermione loathed risking casting any charms so openly in a muggle suburb though, so she simply hunched deeper into her coat. She was so focused on staying warm that she was surprised by the sudden tug on her arm as Millicent stopped. Rogues of Rennie was a small establishment tucked away between a grocer and a computer repair shop.

The wave of warmth that passed over her as they entered was almost as enticing as the waft of rosemary and oregano that followed it. An auburn-haired waiter approached them with a warm smile, “Good evening, do you have a booking?” He asked with a faint Irish bur.

Millicent replied that she did. Once the waiter had located it, he led them to a small table set for two next to a crackling open fireplace. Hermione removed her coat and placed it on the back of her chair. She sat and smoothed out her skirt as the waiter placed a drinks menu in front of her.

“Would either of you like to order a drink now, or have a few minutes to decide,” He asked, flipping open a small notebook.

“A glass of the Karma Merlot Boğazkere, please,” Millicent replied without consulting the list.

“And for you Ma’am? The waiter turned to her.

Hermione scanned the list quickly. None of the wines looked familiar. Not that she truly knew much about vinification. She would have to change that. “The sauvignon blanc for me, please.”

She closed the drinks list and looked up to find Millicent studying her. “What?” she asked, frowning.

“Just admiring the view.”

She shook her head dismissively, but couldn’t help the small flush that rose in her checks. Unsure of how she should reply, she let her eyes fall to the menu in front of her. She hadn’t had a chance to look it over yet so she picked it up. The food on offer was a mix of Italian and British cuisine split between pizzas and mains. The beef ragu sounded delicious with truffle oil and parmesan. She hadn’t a good roast lamb since she had last had a Sunday lunch at the Burrow through either.

She found herself searching for appropriate conversation topics that didn’t involve their work, difficult wizarding politics, or both. Millicent seemed comfortable in the silence that has settled between them so she focused her attention back on her choice of dinner.

It didn’t take long for the waiter to return with their wine and she nodded when asked if she had decided.

“I’ll have the beef ragu, please.”

He scribbled down her answer and turned to Millicent.

“The ricotta gnocchi, thanks.”

The waiter cleared the table of menus. Hermione took a sip of her wine and let its crisp taste soothe her nerves.

“How did you find this place?” She asked as Millicent was placing her own glass back on the table.

“I used to come here with my family.” Millicent’s voice didn’t betray any hint of rawness to it, but Hermione still wasn’t sure she should press. She didn’t need to though, as Millicent continued. “It was a treat when Kurt and I had been good.”

“Who’s Kurt?”

“My younger brother.” Millicent gave a slight chuckle at the surprised expression on her face. “Yeah, not many people knew I have a brother. He was only a third year during our seventh and was in Ravenclaw so we didn’t spend much time together.” She gave a sideways glance at the flames dancing in the fireplace. “Probably for the best really.”

“I’m sorry.” Being an only child she had never understood the relationship dynamics between Ron and his siblings. There didn’t seem to be anything useful she could say.

“So’kay, I tried to talk to him more after the war ended but he didn’t answer my owls very often or want to stay with me much during the holidays.” She gave a half smile and shrugged. “Now he’s in the states doing Merlin knows what.”

“I wouldn’t give up on him just yet if I were you,” Hermione replied carefully

“What makes you say that?”

“My relationship with my parents started to deteriorate when I began attending Hogwarts.” Now it was Millicent's turn to look surprised.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“It was my own fault, really,” she said, taking a larger sip from her glass, letting its warmth settle in her stomach. “I lied to them, a lot, about the things that Harry, Ron and I were doing. I was absolutely terrified that if they knew how dangerous things actually were at Hogwarts they would have me removed, then the Ministry would bind my magic and I would be obliviated.” She ran her hand through her hair and sighed. “I think they knew I wasn’t telling them everything, and they still struggled to come to terms with the fact that their daughter could do magic and wasn’t going to grow up and go to university and follow the plan they had for me in their head.”

Millicent nodded.

“I thought I would have time after the war to mend things. I would be of age so I could just tell them and talk to them about like an adult.” Talking about this with someone other than her mind healer was easier than she had expected. “Now, they are gone and I’ve lost that chance. I wouldn’t want you to feel that way about your brother.”

She took another sip from her glass. It was almost empty so she let the rest fall into her mouth and let it sit on her tongue. She hoped she hadn’t overstepped her bounds but it had felt good to talk to someone. Millicent didn’t look upset; her face was making the small twitches Hermione had become familiar with when the other woman was digesting whatever new information she had thrown at her.

Dinner arrived before Millicent had formulated her response. The smell of the dish placed in front of her was enough to make her mouth water and she realized how hungry she had become. Millicent must have been feeling the same as she had already had her mouth full of food. Carefully she gathered a portion of beef and pappardelle onto her fork. She was not disappointed by its taste in the slightest.

Good food and good wine had helped lift the sombre mood of their previous topic. Hermione let her fork rest on her plate. Across the table, Millicent had finished her meal and was looking very content.

“So now that you’re not drowning under your workload anymore, have you had time to read any good books?”

Hermione laughed. “I am actually. I picked up a book on advanced transfiguration theory. It’s rather interesting.” She leaned forward. “Did you know vanishing an object is caused by magic breaking apart the chemical bonds of its make up, reducing it to atoms? Not that that’s how it's described in the book, but when with a rudimentary understanding of scientific principles it’s obvious.”

Millicent shook her head and smiled, “Can’t say that I did.”

“Well, I can lend you the book when I’m finished with it, I think you’ll enjoy it.”

By the time the waiter returned to take their plates their conversation had moved on to a debate about the links between Astronomy and Arithmancy. Millicent interrupted Hermione just as she was explaining the reason her argument was the correct one.

“I think we should get dessert, don't you?”

She huffed, “Alright, this doesn’t change the fact that I’m right, though!”

Millicent lifted her hands in surrender and smiled.

The deserts all appeared as enticing as the dinner menu. She decided on trying the dark chocolate terrine, while Millicent ordered the tiramisu. Business had clearly started to wind down for the night as Hermione noted the tables surrounding them were empty.

It didn’t take long for their dessert to arrive. The chilled, rich chocolate was a fresh relief in stuffiness the fire beside them had created.

“Mmm, this is really good,” Millicent said. “Here, you should try some.” Without waiting for a response, she scooped a teaspoon of the tiramisu out and held it out across the table.

Hermione looked at the spoon, then at Millicent. The woman met her eyes with a steady gaze and only a small sly smile. So it was going to be like that, then? She didn’t break eye contact with Millicent as she leaned forward demurely and took the spoonful of the desert in her mouth.

“You’re right, it’s delicious,” she said coyly. Millicent didn’t reply but she noticed a slight blush had crept up her neck and checks. Point to her, then.

She ate the rest of her pudding slowly, enjoying the taste and the euphoria of successful coquetry. Once finished, they made their way up to the counter. A brief argument resulted in the agreement to split the bill in half. They left the restaurant and at the door, Millicent offered Hermione her arm, which she accepted. The wind had died, leaving the night sky clear, full of twinkling stars and a quarter moon above them.

“Thank you for having dinner with me, I’ve had a lovely evening,” Hermione said as they wandered back towards the apparition point.

“I should be the one thanking you, you’re the one who suggested it,” Millicent replied. “But I’m glad. I did too.”

The small alley was empty when they arrived. Hermione let go of Millicent's arm and turned to face her to say good night. Millicent spoke first, however.

“We should do this again—you can show me one of your favourite restaurants next time.”

“I’d like that,” Hermione smiled. She glanced away, towards the brickwork of the building next to her. This was it. She had a wonderful night with this woman. Enjoying her company and conversation immensely. It felt… well, it felt right.

“Millicent, would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“It definitely would.”

So, she did. The kiss was slightly more enthusiastic than their last one. She let Millicent lead, brushing their lips together. When she felt her tongue sweep gently across her lips, she parted them. Gods, this felt good. She deepened their kiss and let herself fall into it. 


	8. Chapter 8

Fresh parchment full of the new Arithmancy equations for the next season’s Hippogryph migration in hand, Hermione stepped out of the lifts and made her way towards the Outwork department. She was certain she had analysed all the possible variables, but a last minute check never hurt. Leafing through the sheets of parchment, however, distracted her from the fact someone was walking towards her until their shoulder slammed into hers.

The impact sent the parchments flying out of her hands. Not that was particularly a problem as it emptied her wand hand. Hermione spun with the momentum, wand leaping from its holster and she brandished it directly in her attacker’s face.

“Still haven't lost those reflexes then, Granger?” Cormac McLaggen sneered. He lifted his finger and pushed Hermione's wand out of the way. She let it drop to her side.

“What do you want, Cormac?”

“Just to pass on a friendly warning.” The man cocked an eyebrow at her. “Heard you’ve been hanging around that Bulstrode dyke.”

The slur struck her more painful than any spell he could have cast. How dare he! She wanted nothing more than to tell him to go fuck himself or better yet, hex him with something particularly nasty and potent. This was the Ministry, however, and certain standards of professionalism were expected.

“What I do with my time is absolutely none of your business.”

“Well, whatever it is that you do, people are beginning to talk.” Cormac shook his head condescendingly at her. “Your campaign for werewolf and house-elf rights has already been rocking the boat. There’s only so much leeway your status as the Golden Girl will buy you.” With that, he stuffed his hands in his robe pockets and sauntered away from her.

She seethed at the smug self-righteousness in his voice. Professionalism be damned, she lifted her wand.

A hand came down on her wrist before she could channel her rage into magic. She turned to find herself looking into the concerned brown eyes of Suzan Bones.

“Auror Bones, I was just–”

“Leave it, Hermione, he’s not worth it,” Suzan quickly replied and motioned for her to put her wand away. “Besides you need to be more careful than that. He’s trying to set you up!”

“What?” Hermione felt her blood run cold. McLaggen was an asshole, but surely he wasn’t that clever.

“He’s trying to provoke you into attacking him so that he can press charges against you and get you fired.”

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked somewhat incredulously.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it to someone he didn’t like,” Suzan answered darkly. She crouched and started picking up the scattered parchments that littered the hallway. When Hermione knelt next to her she hissed, “Tiberius Ogden is his uncle and is very protective of his little nephew.”

Shit. She had known that though, although she didn’t remember where she had learned it. She collected the rest of her parchment and then stood, facing the Auror.

“Look, if I thought you were going to get away with it I would have let you curse him into next Tuesday and looked the other way.” Suzan handed her the stack of parchment she had collected before continuing. “Why don’t you go and get some fresh air. I’m sure it will help.”

Maybe it would.

***

A gentle knocking sent Crookshanks darting off her lap and sniffing around the door. Hermione sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors, but there was only one person who at her door at this hour. Sure enough, Millicent stood on her step, doing a poor job of hiding a concerned look behind a half smile.

“Hi,” She said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ”Heard what happened at work, can I come in?”

Hermione stepped back and returned to her seat on her couch next to her untouched book and half empty, cold cup of tea. Crookshanks followed curling himself around her legs. Millicent closed the door behind her and glanced around the flat. She nodded to herself, apparently having made an internal decision and came to sit next to her.

“Are you okay?” Millicent asked quietly. Hermione knew she was watching her, but she could bring herself to meet her eyes.

“Is it always like this?” She said instead.

“Sometimes,” Millicent responded,” Things are about the same in the wizarding world as they are in the muggle world for people who are attracted to the same gender, but it’s getting better in both.”

Hermione had been bullied all her life. First for being a bookworm and for being black at her muggle school. Then she got her letter to Hogwarts and a whole new world opened up in front of her, it would be a fresh start. Instead, a new slur was thrown at her from her pureblood tormentors. Now the war was over, they had won. She was supposed to be free of people’s petty prejudices.

“Hermione…” Millicent started. She looked away for a moment and then back. She turned, trying not to let the stabs of guilt at the pain she saw in those dark mahogany eyes overwhelm her. “I’ll understand if you want to break things off... if it’s too much.” Millicent swallowed and her mouth twisted slightly. “I need you to be honest with me... Honest with yourself, I can’t be with someone who is ashamed of me and of who they are.”

Was she? Was it worth it? Another target painted on her back? Another piece of ammunition for her opposition in the Wizengamot to deride her with?

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Millicent echoed, her voice pinched at the question and her face started to scrunch in uncertainty.

Hermione reached out and took her hand, wrapping both her smaller ones around Millicent’s much larger one.

“Yes, I want this,” She said,” I’ve never let anyone stop me from being who I am, why would I start now?”

“Yeah... you’re right, dumb question, I guess,” Millicent nodded, but her relief was palpable,“ I needed to be sure though.”

“I understand.”

Millicent smiled at her, eyes shining. The way her nose crinkled when she did really was extremely cute. “I’d really like to kiss you now,” Millicent said.

“I would like that very much,” Hermione replied, her own smile as broad as Millicent's.

Their lips met, and Hermione’s guilt, her anxiety and doubt, melted as if washed away by phoenix tears.

 


	9. Epilogue

Some years later…

Hermione sat on her couch sorting through the Saturday morning mail that had arrived in the middle of her breakfast. Muffled noises from her bedroom alerted that her lover had finally decided to join her for what was left of the morning. Millicent appeared through the door, her hair sticking out at odd angles and rubbing her eyes.

“Morn’n,” she purred before a yawn overtook her. She stretched and her joints cracked noisily.

“Morning to you, too,” Hermione smiled up at her. “You have mail, it looks important too.”

Millicent raised an eyebrow at her. She flopped down on the couch and accepted the envelope Hermione handed her. Millicent turned it over, revealing the Ministry's official seal. Hermione felt the woman next to her tense and she laid her hand on her leg reassuringly

Millicent licked her lips, “This might be it.”

“It might be,” Hermione replied neutrally. She knew Millicent had been waiting a long time for an answer and didn’t what to get her hopes up if they were wrong.

Millicent stared at the envelope. Hermione watched as she slowly broke the seal and removed the parchment inside. Her lips formed silent words as she read, but her expression revealed nothing of its contents. Hermione was burning to know what it said and it took all her willpower to hold herself still as she waited. Finally, Millicent let her hands fall to her lap, eyes wide in amazement.

“I got it,” she whispered.

“You got it?” Hermione lept off the couch in delight, pulling Millicent up with her.

“I GOT THE RESEARCH GRANT!” She almost yelled, her open mouth grin so wide it almost smooshed the rest of her face. She pulled Hermione into a tight bear hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around giddily. When her arms were free and her feet touched the carpet again, Hermione leaned up and captured Millicent’s lips in a passionate kiss, throwing her arms around her partner's neck.

“I knew you could do it,” she beamed up at her.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Millicent replied, her face radiating her joy and love.

When Millicent looked at her like that, Hermione couldn’t help but melt inside. The life they were building together was wonderful and she was sure her parents would be proud if they could see her.

“We should go out to celebrate,” Millicent said, her smile hadn’t diminished. “We can go to the new restaurant you wanted to try.”

“Later,” she replied, taking Millicent’s hand and pulling her back towards their bedroom. “Right now, I think we deserve a lazy morning in bed, don't you?”

Millicent’s expression and hand sliding down the back of her pyjama pants gave her all the answer she needed.


End file.
